Joe

Joe

I heard someone call him Joe,
an ordinary name for an
average man.

He installed himself uncomfortably
into the straight back wholesale
restaurant chair with
familiar unease.

His 40 something thighs
straddling the seat
ready to respond
with a hardy hand shake,
greeting his friend Bob.

Bob and Joe,
all American names and men.

They predictably talk
about the rain, work, sports,
and testicle adjustments,
of past glories and
future boasts that both
know will not come to past.

After a moment together
they forget to keep sucking
in their guts and the years of
beers, bacon, and couch
quarterbacking spill over
their belts like the fog
over the headlands.

Ordering breakfast
was an old boy’s affair,
eggs, pork, white toast and
black liters of his name sake

Curling one side of my
enlightened mouth,
I judge their conversation,
tripe and shallow.
Self-righteously condemning
all single-named syllabled
American males,
for not knowing how to have a

real moment.

I return to my meditative,
in the moment,
better than them

stillness…

“I don’t know man,
sometimes it just fuckin hurts”

Intruding again on Joe-Bob’s
trivial concerns,
I see a tear being wiped
away…unashamed

Touching his hand like a brother, he said;
“Sometimes all we have is our hurt.
It lets us know there is still hope”

Humbled by this wisdom and love,
the name

“Joe”

took on new meaning.

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2 Responses to “Joe”

  1. This poem touch me in a way i believe we can all relate to , how often we judge others on their appearance or manner of expression . thinking that we somehome got the holier I am pass through life ..until we witness someones true humanity and it brings it out in ourself …we are really all one ..with hopes and derams and bitter hurts to heal from .. so well said at end … where the name Joe took in a whole new meaning

  2. BRAVO !!!.. I laughed because I can relate .. and cried because of the same

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